


A Three-Legged Workhorse

by liamkosta



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamkosta/pseuds/liamkosta
Summary: Reyes really did want to be the good man Scott thought he was. Maybe he still can be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of rough because I haven't written a whole lot in like, a year and a half, maybe two years. But I really, really loved these two.
> 
> Many many many thanks to canonbisexual on tumblr who found my fic somehow and ran a lot of very needed grammatical edits for me. Title is taken from the song 'A Three-Legged Workhorse' by This Will Destroy You.

Reyes lived in Tartarus, but he preferred drinking in Kralla’s Song. First off, it gave him quick access to Keema and the ‘throne room’ if something dire were going down; second, Umi served better drinks. Pricier drinks, but better, for sure. Third, you were less likely to get knifed to death stepping outside for a smoke or a breather there.

Fourth, he kept hoping something would happen there to bring Scott Ryder back to him.

Oh, it was a knife he kept twisting into his own ribs. Six months ago and Kadara was a spitting cobra: kind of pretty to look at, but deadly. Three months ago, Scott Ryder and his shiny team and his shiny armor had showed up and cleaned up the water and the air and Reyes’ expectations for Kadara’s future. Three months ago Scott Ryder had walked into that bar and started Kadara off on a path to being _better_ . To being a _Golden World_.

One month ago, Scott Ryder had watched Reyes trick Sloane Kelly into a fake duel, had watched her die, and had dumped him in a cave. Well - Reyes would think this, to himself, while tossing back shot after shot - serves him right. Serves Scott Ryder right for thinking anyone from Kadara would be a good fit for him. Serves him right for coming 634 years out of his way to try and find his destiny in a dive in a sulphuric sinkhole. Serves him right for trusting an exile.

Reyes knocked back another shot, and put a hand over his heart as he felt that familiar heavy ache start up.

 _Serves him right_ , he thought, and then he remembered that Scott thought he was a good man and he lost his grip on his shot glass.

“Umi,” he said, and wiggled his fingers sideways in a pathetic ‘please, come here’ gesture. She was already giving him a disapproving ‘please do not’ look when he said, “Just one more shot. Please. For the road, Umi.”

“Yeah, it’s a long walk down a short elevator shaft,” she replied, but indulged him. “You better be paid up and out the door before that hits your stomach.”

Reyes decided to wait two minutes before taking the shot. He used that time to pay off his tab - something he was getting used to doing - and contemplated trying to call Scott again. Scott would never pick up a vid call, but through his terminal…

Scott always hung up as soon as he heard Reyes’ voice. Sometimes, Reyes felt like that was cruel enough; picking up and then hanging up when Reyes said anything. But sometimes Scott would call _him_ , and all he would do was cry, and sometimes say Reyes’ name. It was an odd little relationship. Reyes would _never admit_ to wanting it to carry on, to dreading the day that Scott stopped. It was the only thing he had left and it gave him ten seconds where he could pretend they were still a Something.

 _No_ , Reyes thought as he bucked back the shot and pushed away from his seat. He kept the liquor in his mouth until he reached the top of the first stair, to keep his end of the deal with Umi. _Out before that hits your stomach._ He didn’t feel flowery enough to pretend she meant whatever terrible feelings were washing over him.

 _Reyes is a better man than you think_ , and _Why didn’t you trust me?_ and _You’re not the man I thought you were._ These things were as burned into his memory as a brand into skin. Sometimes Reyes took them out and retraced the memories in a vain attempt to remind himself of how stupid Scott was.

It doesn’t ever work. Scott saw Reyes as a good person because he wanted to believe everyone came from the Milky Way with only good intentions and good hearts in their chests and he was stupid enough to believe that Reyes wasn’t going to fuck that up.

Reyes had his brief moment of anger and blaming Scott on the lift down to the slums before his urge to punch things died down and the usual guilt he tried - and failed - to swallow came bubbling up. He thought he was going to choke on those good intentions and that desire to be _a better man_ that still overtook him sometimes.

 _Reyes is a better man than you think_ bounced around in his head as he climbed the stairs up to his room and, not for the first time since Scott came to Kadara, he wished Zia had been successful and killed them both. No, no, not fair. Andromeda _needed_ Scott. He wished she’d just killed Reyes and gotten it over with. That would’ve been easier. Then he could be a sad memory to spur Scott onto his ultimate goal. A soft little lesson or something, and not a bitter stone in his stomach. Not a reminder, or a failure, or… whatever he was.

Reyes lingered outside of the door to his own room. He could smell a smoke, faint and sweet, and it stuck out amidst the smell of body odor and bad drinks that usually permeated Tartarus’ atmosphere. He hesitated before deciding that if it was something that could kill him, he’d rather be dead than feeling like he was, and opened the doors.

And it was… Scott.

Scott Ryder.

By himself.

Armored, though not as heavily as normal; sitting on one of the seats Reyes used to call a bed, before he got himself a proper bed in the corner. He didn’t have a gun anywhere near him; instead, there was a glass with what looked to be a few fingers of awful Tartarus brand whiskey inside. Scott was smoking something - not a cigarette. Reyes figured it was something to get him high.

He didn’t say anything when Reyes stepped in. It was the first time Reyes had seen Scott in a month, and God, but he was still beautiful - frayed at the edges, and his normally carefully combed back hair was messy, and there was a new scar on his chin. But it was him. It was _his_ Scott, lounging on Reyes’ couch like the previous month hadn’t happened.

“What are you doing here,” he asked, because one of them had to say something. He tried to make his voice sound edgeless. No barbs, because if Scott was there, and he looked like _that_ , something was really, really wrong. Something had happened to him. He didn’t have to say it- he looked like he’d been brutalized from the inside out.

 _He isn’t yours anymore_ , he tried to tell himself, even as his heart swore a personal vendetta against who or whatever had hurt him like this.

Scott stayed quiet a moment or two longer, then stopped smoking to sit up, then to stand up. He didn’t look at Reyes for a moment, but he did walk towards him with a saunter that said this visit could be _more_ , if Reyes wanted it to be _more_. Maybe, on a better day, under better circumstances, if Reyes hadn’t been a knife in Scott’s back and Scott a thorn in Reyes’ side, an ulcer in his stomach, a hand at Scott’s throat.

On a better day, maybe. As it was, the sway quickly lost its appeal, and when Scott pressed himself against Reyes all Reyes could do was liberate the joint from his grasp and take a few puffs from it to calm himself.

“What are you doing here, Scott,” he asked again as Scott’s arms slid around his neck. He looked at Reyes like Reyes was going to say something to magically solve whatever was bothering him.

Scott just stood there for a moment, though, and pressed his body up against Reyes.

“Hey,” he finally said. “Hi.”

“Scott, where are your friends.” Reyes dropped the joint to the ground and crushed it under his toe. Scott didn’t seem fazed by the display.

“I didn’t tell them I was coming,” he nuzzled his face against Reyes’ throat like the last month hadn’t happened, like he was a sleepy lover welcoming his husband back to bed. “Just wanted to…”

Reyes didn’t like how Scott trailed off, or how warm and soft his mouth felt against Reyes’ throat. It would be so easy to bare his neck; that part of him that would always adore Scott wanted to open the invitation that was being thrust into his hands. Into his _arms._  

 _His_ Scott, for a moment, and then Reyes was pushing Scott away. Gently, until he could look him in the face. Scott clutched Reyes’ arms and deliberately lowered his gaze.

“You should go back to your ship.” Reyes finally said. It took every fiber in his being for him to look at Scott - pliant and ready to be Reyes’ again, even if just for _one night_ \- and send him away. But pliant and willing were not interchangeable, and Scott was drunk, and he was clearly feeling vulnerable. He wasn’t there because he wanted to make amends, he was there because he wanted Reyes to fuck away whatever horrible feeling had clawed its way inside and made its home in him.

_Reyes is a better man than you think._

Reyes remembered that. And he remembered _You’re not the man I thought you were_. Because Scott had lived two sweet, blissful months thinking that Reyes was a good man with a good heart who did the right thing. Reyes missed how Scott used to look at him. Y _ou’re not the man I thought you were_ , he gave Scott’s arms a squeeze. “Please,” he said. “Go back to your ship and get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Reyes watched Scott’s face work through a hundred different feelings at once, processing the rejection. He hoped Scott would understand he wasn’t turning him away out of malice or as a means to get back at him for breaking Reyes' heart.

"Reyes." Scott tried again. He put his hands on Reyes' shoulders. His breathing was strange; soft, gasping breaths, the breathing of a man trying not to cry. "Reyes, I just want to..." he stopped himself, shook his head, looked him in the eye again. A silent plead.  _Don't send me away._

“Please,” he said again as Scott’s lip started to tremble and he pulled away, then stepped away, then moved to the door. Reyes watched him leave with that same stone heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t watch Scott leave Tartarus. He would be safe. So long as he stuck to the brighter parts of the slums, he would be safe; Reyes’ people would make sure of that. Reyes took a deep breath, in, then out, then moved to sit down where Scott had just been sitting.  It took a lot out of him not to begin dry heaving then and there; he finished off Scott’s whiskey, then leaned back and closed his eyes, and remembered.

The duel. Sloane Kelly on her stomach, a sniper’s bullet in her chest. Scott following behind him, and the look he gave him when he told Reyes he wasn’t the man he thought he was. How it stung, and how true it was, because no matter how much good Reyes did he would never feel like he was clean the way Scott had believed.

The way Reyes _wanted_ to be. For him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_About Ryder_

_To: Reyes Vidal_ _  
_ _From: Liam Kosta_

 

_Just wanted to say thanks for sending him back. I know, I know, basic human decency and all, but it means a lot to me. I know he would want to thank you too, but he won’t. Ryders are as stubborn as they are brazen._

_...want to say thanks from me, too. He hasn’t been feeling right. Something happened on Ark Natanus. Don’t know what it was, I wasn’t there._

_Maybe you should know. I put him to bed. He kept talking about you. Feels wrong to give you the specifics, but I’m more worried about him being okay than I am him being upset with me. Just want my best friend to feel alright again._

 

  
Reyes usually deleted most of his messages, but this one he saved. He read it over and over again, because something in it made the world shift underneath of his feet each time he read it. _He kept talking about you_ . Reyes wasn’t ignorant to the fact that something was _wrong_ with Scott, that he missed him, but seeing him and getting this somehow made it… more real.

No, not more real. Just harder to ignore.

Another moment of anger, or just plain bitterness; Reyes wanted Scott back, but as far as he knew the Tempest had left the planet that morning. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent Scott away. Maybe he should’ve let him sleep in his bed, instead, and slept on the benches. Maybe he should’ve strung him along for a little bit, just to see what he was on about, what had drove him to Reyes after a hollow month. The bitterness subsided quickly, though. It wasn’t Scott’s fault. _This_ wasn’t Scott’s fault.

Reyes re-opened Liam’s email, stared at it for a few more minutes, thought of replying. Then he thought better of it. While he was still feeling a kiss of courage from the previous night’s drinks, he decided to reach out - in his own way, on his own terms.

 _Pathfinder,_ he started, and then changed it to _Ryder_ , and then finally to _Scott_.

 _You’re not the man I thought you were_ , Scott had told him. _I wanted to be_ , Reyes had tried. He remembered it; just a statement, flat and accepting. Scott had made up his mind, and Reyes had no interest in fighting him. But he’d had time, and he would have more time. He could be the man Scott thought he was. That better man that he thought he was defending against Zia. There was a thousand things Reyes wanted to unload on him. Instead, he wrote:

 

_Door’s always open to you. Easier when you’re sober. No judgement and no expectations. Just miss you._

 

_Reyes_

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @ http://nerevarmoonstar.tumblr.com/


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